


Beyond The Garden Gate

by silver_etoile



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 01:51:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16734777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: Elia likes to think that he’s open-minded, not like his parents or their friends who go to mass too many times a week. He likes to think that even if he is definitely into girls, he could be into guys too. Or more specifically, into Filo.





	Beyond The Garden Gate

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr: [azozzoni](http://azozzoni.tumblr.com)

The first time Elia sees Filippo, it’s at Fede’s birthday party, and Filo, with his bleach blond hair and colorful shirt, is dancing with all the girls. Elia thinks, ‘isn’t he a little gay for that?’ but he doesn’t really care. He doesn’t care who anyone’s fucking because that just means they’re getting some.

He’s been sent on a beer run from the boys downstairs, and he rummages through the fridge, pushing aside mixers and ‘girly’ drinks for the good stuff in the back. He feels a shadow behind him, a hand gripping the door behind his back, effectively boxing him in.

“Any beer in there?” a voice asks, too close to his ear, and Elia turns around to find Filippo standing there, a quirk to the corner of his lips, and then Elia notices the lip ring glinting in the dim light from the fridge.

Elia has never really thought about guys, and he doesn’t really now except to wonder what a blow job would feel like with a cool silver ring. For all his posturing, Elia hasn’t had much experience in that department, and though the few blow jobs he’s had have been good, he always wondered what could make them better.

“Yeah,” he says, handing Filippo one of the beers he’s supposed to take back to the bathroom.

Filo nods at him, and Elia thinks he sees his gaze flit down his body for half a second, but he could be imagining it.

“How’d you get invited to this little soiree?”

“I know Eva,” Elia said, talking louder over the music from the terrace. “And she’s friends with Fede.”

Actually, Gio and Marti are friends with Eva. He’s pretty sure that Eva hasn’t liked him since that incident at the lake house.

Filo nods again, pulling the ring into his mouth by his teeth, and Elia can’t help watching. He’s not sure why, and he shakes his head, not missing the smirk on Filo’s face as he does it.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Filo says, cracking open the can and taking a long sip, throat muscles working as he swallows, and Elia feels himself following suit, suddenly very aware of how close Filippo is.

“Maybe,” Elia says because he doesn’t know what else to say for once in his life, swallowing down the unexpected flush on his cheeks.

Filippo leaves him there, halfway inside the fridge, and it takes Elia a minute to remember what he was doing, finally fishing out the beers and heading downstairs.

*

Elia forgets. He forgets about that moment with Filo in the dark kitchen at Fede’s party. Too much is going on with Martino being a flaky ass and Gio assuring Elia that they’ll find out what’s going on eventually. He spends his time drooling over the Argentina with Luca, a girl he will probably never have a chance with.

He doesn’t see Filippo again until he shows up at Martino’s birthday party many months later. Somehow, they made it through Martino’s coming out and dating Nico and everything that comes with that. Elia is just relieved they’re not fighting anymore, relieved as anyone to see Martino smile again. He doesn’t give a fuck that Martino is gay, that he’s in love with a dorky pianist who, by the way, is really hot. He’ll agree with Gio on that point.

“Filo!” Martino greets him, eager, excited, and it’s nice to see him this way. Elia nearly chokes on his beer as he catches sight of Filippo through the crowd. His bleached blond hair is gone now, a bright pink instead, as if he could get any more noticeable. “You came!”

“Of course,” Filo replies, a smile on his face as he reaches Marti. Luca slaps Elia on the back as he coughs up his beer. “You’d be lost without me.”

Martino rolls his eyes and turns to Elia and the others. “Guys, this is Filippo. Filo, this is Elia, Gio, and Luca.”

Filo nods at all of them, eyes lingering for a second on Elia, and Elia stares back. He isn’t sure what it is about Filippo that makes him hot and cold and excited and scared all at the same time.

“So you’re Marti’s friend,” Filo says when Martino heads off with his hand in Nico’s and Gio drags Luca to get more beer.

Filippo settles on the couch next to Elia, a little too close considering it could very well fit three people.

“And who are you exactly?” Elia asks because he’s not going to let a guy with pink hair and a lip ring intimidate him. Or turn him on, which might be what’s happening as they sit there.

Elia likes to think that he’s open-minded, not like his parents or their friends who go to mass too many times a week. He likes to think that even if he is definitely into girls, he could be into guys too. Or more specifically, into Filo.

“I’m his guru,” Filippo says, sipping his beer, tongue darting over his lip ring.

“His what?” Elia repeats, eyebrows raising, looking away from Filo’s mouth. He has to or else he might get hard right here on this couch, and that would not be good.

“His guru,” Filo says, as though it’s not a weird thing at all. “I give him boy advice.”

“Boy advice?” Elia is aware he’s simply repeating everything Filippo is saying, and Filippo grins at him for it.

“Yes,” he says simply. “Do you want some?”

Elia frowns, raising his can, pausing at Filo’s look, as though he’s waiting for a response.

“Some what?”

“Boy advice.” Filo scoots closer, as if he’s not close enough already, his thigh pressed to Elia’s, and Elia is far too much of a teenage boy to be this close to someone as good-looking as Filo and not have his body react. “Any burning questions you want to ask? Any curiosities about me or Marti or what it’s like.”

Elia opens his mouth to say, “What what’s like?” but he stops himself. He knows what Filo is talking about, and he wonders why Filo is offering. Does he look like he likes dick?

It would be easy to laugh him off, to struggle off the couch and ignore the rush of heat on his skin as they sit too close. It would be easy for Elia to ignore him and go about his day trying to hook up with the Argentina, but he’s intrigued, to say the least. He’s drawn in to Filo’s face, his deep brown eyes and plush lips, caged with a shiny lip ring. The stubble on his cheeks, and he wonders what that feels like, to kiss someone with stubble.

So Elia takes a breath and licks his lips, lifting his chin to gaze at Filippo. “Is it different?” he asks, and Filo pauses.

“Is what different?”

“Kissing a guy.”

Filo smiles after a second, wide and bright, and Elia’s heart skips a beat, nervous, excited. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never kissed a girl.”

“Never?” Elia demands, setting his beer on the table and twisting to face Filo. “You’ve never kissed a girl?”

Filippo shrugs. “Have you ever kissed a boy?”

“No,” Elia admits. “But that’s—” _different_. He cuts himself off at Filo’s eyebrow raise. He stops, thinks for a second, something he rarely does when talking. “Why haven’t you ever kissed a girl?”

“Didn’t want to,” Filippo says simply, setting his beer with Elia’s, searching his face now, and Elia isn’t sure if he should be scared because he definitely doesn’t feel scared. His heart seems to be speeding up, but not out of fear, out of something else.

Elia glances around, at the other people at the party. Martino has disappeared with Niccolo. Probably to make out somewhere secluded. He doesn’t know why Martino agrees to parties when he’d rather just be alone.

Gio and Luca haven’t returned from their beer run, probably distracted by girls, like Elia should be right now. He should be watching the girls from the volleyball team jump around in short skirts and low-cut tank tops. Instead, he’s sitting far too close to Filo, wondering what it would feel like to get his lip ring in between his teeth.

“Haven’t you ever wondered?” Elia asks finally, looking back at Filo, who shrugs.

“Sure, but I know what I like.” He tilts his head at Elia, and Elia isn’t sure if that’s an invitation or not. “Have you? Wondered?”

Elia is wondering right now. But yes, after Martino came out, Elia wondered. He wondered if it was better somehow, or different.

Taking a breath, he jerks his shoulders in a yes type of way, not explicitly saying it, and maybe that is an invitation because Filippo’s eyes flick to his but he doesn’t move in, waiting.

Elia checks around again, but the couch is shoved back in a dark corner, away from the crowds, and everyone is too drunk and happy right now to pay attention to other people.

He knows he shouldn’t, at least, not right here, but he may never get the chance again, so he slides forward, further into the shadows with Filippo, not letting himself be tentative as he reaches for Filo’s neck and leans into him, heart beating fast, holding his gaze for the second before Elia kisses him.

It’s hard and fast and not long enough to really savor it, to really feel it. He gets Filo’s lips under his, Filo’s tongue sliding in his mouth, and he shudders, fingers digging into the back of Filippo’s neck. There is a scrape of stubble against his cheek, hard and rough like sandpaper, and everything is a little wet, maybe mostly on his part. 

When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed, breath coming short as he moves back, away from Filippo, sinking into the couch as he wills away his erection and hopes Filo doesn’t notice.

Filo is smiling, lips wet and shiny, and Elia thinks that he did that, that Filo let him do that.

“Well?” Filo asks finally when Elia fidgets, not quite knowing what to do with his hands for once. “How was it?”

“Different,” Elia says, can only think to say in the moment.

“Different bad?”

“Different can be good,” he says, glancing at Filo, catching his smirk. Oh God, he is fucked.

He’s saved from having to explain as Gio returns, practically hauling him off the couch. “Come on, Elia. It’s time for an embarrassing cake for Marti.”

Filippo stays on the couch as Elia is dragged away, and though Elia looks back, he isn’t sure what he would have said anyway.

*

Elia thinks about the kiss this time. He thinks about it a lot, more than he would probably think about any kiss with a girl. Not because it was with a guy, but because it was with Filippo, who has pink hair and doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of him. Who calls himself Marti’s guru and offers up free advice to anyone willing to listen.

“How do you know Filippo?” he asks Marti one day during break. They’re sitting on the desks in an empty classroom and Gio has gone to get coffee.

“He’s Eleanora’s brother,” Martino replies. “And he helped me out during the whole gay thing.”

He says ‘gay thing’ like it was just some weird phase in his life, and maybe the internal anguish was, but Marti being gay isn’t a phase. Elia knows that. Martino knows that.

“So you went to a total stranger rather than your best friends?” Elia asks, pretending to be insulted, shaking his hands at Marti. “Pure and utter betrayal.”

“Fuck off,” Marti says, but he’s smiling. “Why do you care about Filippo?”

“Nothing.” Elia jerks his head. “Talked to him at your party. He seems cool.”

“He is,” Martino agrees, and Elia doesn’t get to ask anymore because Gio returns holding two cups of coffee.

“The machine ate my change, so you guys owe me,” Gio says as he hands out the coffee.

*

Elia is starting to get desperate when he asks Martino where Filippo hangs out. Marti, of course, gives him a hard time, asking him why the fuck he wants to know, and Elia doesn’t know why he lies about losing Filo’s number (when he never had it in the first place) or that he agreed to help him with the Uni project, but he does, and Martino tells him that Filippo usually hangs around the photography studio at the university when he’s not out taking pictures in strange rundown places around town.

It takes all the bravado Elia has to walk into the studio at the university, to take the bus all the way across town without talking himself out of it. He doesn’t even know if Filippo will be there, if he is even at all interested in him after one slightly-drunken kiss at a party.

For a second, Elia thinks the lab is empty, bright light streaming in through the window to the big room, devoid of people. He thinks he just wasted a whole afternoon coming down here. 

Then a door opens on the other side of the studio, and his heart leaps as Filippo emerges with a camera slung around his neck. He stops, looks surprised to find Elia there, and then a smile creeps onto his face.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, stepping closer to Elia, fiddling with the camera strap to get it to lie flat.

“I…” Elia says, at a loss for words for once in his life. “Marti told me you hang out here.”

Filo pauses. “Okay,” he says slowly. 

Shit, Elia thinks. He’s not doing this well. He’s not sure what he came to say, only that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss and wanting to do it again. He’s usually not this dumbstruck when talking to girls. With girls, he just plasters on a charming smile and compliments their hair or clothes or makeup. He’s not sure that will work with Filo.

“I was just about to go shoot some photos,” Filippo says when they stand there for a minute. “You want to come?”

“Yeah, okay,” Elia agrees because it’s easier than sorting out his thoughts. Is this what Martino felt like for all those months? It’s damn confusing.

“Alright, let’s go,” Filippo says, taking Elia by the shoulder and turning him towards the door. Elia isn’t going to complain with Filo’s hand burning through his shirt, and he smiles slightly as they leave the studio behind.

*

The place is beautiful. Strange, but beautiful, Elia allows as he follows Filo over a broken gate and through wilds of weeds into what seems to be a garden of some sort. Or maybe it was a garden a long time ago. Now it’s overgrown with graffiti on stone walls, the trickling of a tiny river somewhere nearby.

“Is this where you bring people you want to murder?” he asks as he turns to face Filo, who responds by snapping his photo.

“You don’t like it?”

“Just seems a little cliche.”

“Cliche how?” Filo asks, stepping closer and adjusting his camera. Elia doesn’t care about the camera, preoccupied with getting Filo even closer than that, getting his attention off the camera.

“The trees, the overgrown rose bushes,” he says, flicking his hair from his eyes. “Someone might think this was a good date place.”

Filippo looks up, hands stilling on the camera. “I wouldn’t take a date here,” he says finally, and Elia’s stomach drops a little.

Not that he wants to date Filo. No, he just wants to get his hands on him, get under his shirt, hear him moan in his ear, the way that he’s been dreaming about for weeks.

“This place is more for… other activities,” Filippo goes on at length, glancing at Elia, who feels his heart start beating again.

“Other activities?” Elia says, a stick breaking under his foot as he stepped towards Filo. “What kind?”

“The kind you need to be alone for,” Filippo replies, slipping the camera strap over his head. “The kind that you probably shouldn’t do with a guy who’s into girls.”

“I am into girls,” Elia says because it seems important to state. He thinks they’re soft and beautiful and kind and gentle. “But I…” _I’m also into you._ “I could be that kind of thing.”

Filo smiles, fiddling with the camera. “I don’t think you want to be that thing.”

“No, I do,” Elia says, a little too swiftly, a little too eagerly. He wants to know what it feels like with Filo between his legs, with Filo’s hands on his back, fingers dancing up his spine as he gasps for breath. Just thinking about it makes him hot, a flush crawling up his body. He steps up to Filo. “I do.”

Filippo arches an eyebrow, like he doesn’t quite believe him, but Elia’s not having that. He reaches up—he has to reach up because Filo is taller than him—wrapping his hands around the back of Filippo’s neck and kissing him.

It is still a little weird, but also a little magical, and hot and overwhelming, and Elia sighs against Filippo’s mouth as he finally gets to do what he’s been thinking of since that night at the party. He gets to close his teeth over Filippo’s lip ring, slide his tongue over the cold metal, dip into Filo’s mouth and suck on his bottom lip.

“Wait, wait,” Filippo says, pulling back abruptly, and for a second, Elia thinks that this is it. Filo’s going to say something about him being Martino’s friend, that Elia is barely eighteen, that they shouldn’t do this.

But Filippo says none of those things, reaching over to set the camera safely on a stump before returning to Elia and hauling him in by the waist until their hips are flush together and Elia just wants to get his mouth on Filo and never stop.

Filippo’s body is warm, his hands firm as they slide to Elia’s hips. Elia is too lost in Filo’s mouth, his tongue, the graze of Filo’s lips over his jaw to think about where he wants Filo’s hands. He wants them everywhere.

There’s a bench hidden in the weeds, the wood old and dry, but it doesn’t creak as Filo shoves Elia back, down, and then Filo’s on top of him, and holy shit, this is all Elia has been thinking of for days.

Elia pants as Filippo kisses him, hard and fast, and they don’t take the time to think about it, only to feel it. Filippo’s hands wander down his sides, over his tee shirt, playing with the hem. He lets his mouth ghost down Elia’s jaw line, and Elia closes his eyes, leans back to allow Filo to press hot kisses to his neck, licking and sucking until Elia shudders, toes curling as heat gathers in his dick.

Elia’s hand is in Filo’s hair, gripping the short locks too hard as he exhales and Filo pulls back, licking his lips in a way that goes straight to Elia’s prick.

“Have you ever had a blow job?” he asks, and Elia nearly groans, forcing his fingers to release Filippo’s hair, stroking down his neck instead, like he needs to keep touching him.

“Yes,” he breathes out finally, eyes flicking to Filippo’s.

“Then I don’t need to do that,” Filippo says, and Elia really does groan this time, pushing his hips up against Filo’s, accentuating just how obvious it is that he wants Filo to do just that.

“Filo,” he says, and he grimaces at how whiny he sounds, how out of breath he already is, and all they’ve done is kiss.

“Needy, aren’t you?” Filo teases, and Elia glares up at him.

“Fuck off,” he says, but he doesn’t want Filo to fuck off. He doesn’t want him to go anywhere, and he grabs Filippo’s hips in case he decides to try.

“Maybe we’ll see how different it is,” Filippo says, prying Elia’s hands from his hips, sliding off the bench and onto the ground.

The few blow jobs Elia has had have all been inside, in dark rooms, rushed before someone walks in, him eager to get off. They’ve never been like this, out in the open with the blue sky above them, birds twittering somewhere behind him, Filippo on his knees in the grass, tugging his jeans open, sliding them down his thighs.

He gets to see Filippo lean in, open his mouth, slide his tongue over his dick, take him in his mouth. Elia swallows slowly, sucking in air, everything hot and heavy, skin flushed under Filippo’s hands on his stomach, and Elia jerks as Filo’s fingers glide over his thighs, pushing his legs apart.

Fuck, it’s so good, he finds himself thinking, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the uncomfortable bench. Filippo knows exactly what to do, and there’s no awkward scrapes of teeth or accidental choking. That may be just because Filippo’s more experienced than some of the girls Elia has been with, or it may just be that he’s better than them.

Elia doesn’t care which it is. He’s getting his dick sucked by a really hot guy with pink hair, and he shivers at the slide of Filo’s lip ring against his prick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Elia breathes as Filippo runs his tongue over the underside of his prick, a hand squeezing the base, and he doesn’t think he’s going to make it much longer, even if coming now would be super embarrassing. Elia likes to think that he’s good at sex, or at least at what he’s done so far. The major challenge has been getting a girl to do it with him.

Filippo slides back, his mouth warm and wet, and Elia squeezes his eyes shut at heat rushes through his body, skin tingling as his hips push up, into Filo’s mouth, unable to stop himself. He knows girls don’t like that, and Filo presses a hand to his hips, forcing him back.

“Oh, fuck,” Elia curses, biting his lip, throwing his head back, letting out a shaky breath as his body takes over and he comes, he comes in Filo’s mouth, panting for air, gripping Filo’s shoulder.

Filo spits a second later, wiping his mouth as he pulls back, a satisfied smile on his face as Elia tries to regain his thoughts. 

Elia can’t think straight even as Filo hauls himself up onto the bench beside him. Aside from the last few weeks, he hasn’t spent much time thinking about what it would be like to have a guy suck him off, especially when that guy is Filippo Sava, who watches Elia as though he’s wondering if he’s made the right decision.

It was definitely the right decision, and Elia is going to make sure he knows that.

“That was amazing,” he breathes finally, letting his head fall so he can look at Filo beside him.

“Good different?” he asks, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Not different, just good,” Elia says. “Fantastic.”

Filippo is silent for a moment, long enough that Elia can hear the breeze rustling the leaves on the trees around them, the distant rush of cars somewhere far beyond the wall. He doesn’t know what Filippo is thinking, but he knows that thinking is never good.

“Elia,” Filippo says after too much time has passed, and Elia turns to him, the flush receding from his cheeks, rational thought (if he ever had any) coming back.

“When are we going to do that again?” he asks, watching Filo hesitate.

“You’re…”

“What?” Elia asks even though he knows what’s going to come out of Filo’s mouth. Too young. Too immature. Too inexperienced.

“You’re unbelievable,” Filo says, surprising Elia.

“Thank you,” Elia says with a smirk, though he’s not sure what Filo’s referring to.

Filo laughs, eyes soft as he gazes at Elia. “But we shouldn’t do this again.”

“Why not?” Elia asks, frowning. What they’ve just done was pretty awesome, and he wants to do it again. Behind Filippo, the sun shines down, falling on the side of his face, a warm glow over his smile, like Elia amuses him.

“Because you’re young,” he says. “And there will be plenty more opportunities to do this.”

Elia pushes himself up, pulling his jeans back up. “What’s wrong with doing it with you?”

Filippo raises an eyebrow, and Elia smiles at him. 

“So when are we going to do it again?”

Filippo laughs and shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue this time, reaching over and gripping Elia’s neck gently, a soft touch that surprises Elia and he doesn’t say anything for once as the sun sinks in the east.

*

The next time Elia sees Filippo, he greets him with a smile and a kiss as they stumble inside Filo’s bedroom and leave the questions behind.

*

FIN.


End file.
